School's Out
Barricade is looking at a datapad in his hands, scrutinizing the information on its screen while Shiftlock, standing in front of him, waits with the sort of nervous anticipation of a school-aged child waiting for a teacher's passing or failing grade. It's a strange sight to say the least but one that's getting more common around the warrior's hall. Rumor has gotten around that the former Iaconian police officer has taken it upon himself to train the rookie that's fallen into the unfortunate position of being Property of the Forge. The low rumble of Breakdown's engine is at first the only real sound he makes as he moseys clear of the repair bays that he has been poking around in for one reason or another and into the hall proper. Just the quiet crackle of tires over the floor, and then the stalling silence as he rolls to a halt. Reverting to root mode, he stands with the brace of one heavy arm against a table, side-eyeing Shiftlock and Barricade at a kibbitzer's distance with a narrowed glint of his glance. "All right kid, you've got enough of these questions right that I wouldn't be embarassed t' take you before an evaluator," Barricade replies with the faintest hint of a smile. He fairly looms over the little femme, who stands just slightly taller than waist high in front of him. "And you finally managed t' stand still for more than a few minutes without whining and moving around. I'd say we've made progress." Shiftlock's doors fidget and her tires move just a little bit in their wheelwells at her leg. She looks like she is going to explode into action, speech, cheers, maybe all at once, but she's doing her best to hold it all in. Barricade notes this and lifts an optic ridge. "You can say something if you want now, y'know." "OH THANK PRIMUS I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO DIE," she blurts out all a once. "What, like, take your head off?" Casual in his spill of words into conversations that don't initially belong to him, Breakdown's first reaction is on the snickerish side. He braces, the weight of his arms crossing over the bulk of his chest in a way that might even seem anatomically improbable. He chuffs, weight of his feet clanking against the floor as he shifts. "Or like you were gonna expire from internal pressure?" "I hate standing still and being quiet! I hate it hate it hate it - it's bad enough I haven't been able to run around for a WHOLE WEEK but just standing there and waiting and waiting and /waiting/ oh my PRIMUS I think my spark chamber was just gonna - UNGH - implode or something!" Shiftlock gesticulates to Breakdown as she speaks, going so far as to pantomime her own imminent core collapse due to enforced Quiet Time. Barricade notes Breakdown's approach and gives him a nod of acknowledgement, turning back to his excitable charge. "Speeders. If they ain't movin' their wheels they're movin' somethin' else, usually their mouths." Smile flashing in a bright slash across his red-gleaming faceplate, Breakdown blows a low chuckle past the teeth of the expression. He says, "Usually," with a kind of complacent equanimity on the subject not usually applied by the crankier of trucks, but then again--. "You know," he offers with a languid shade of humor to inform the cant of his head, "--when you race, you gotta stand still until the starter goes off." "Well I can handle THAT but Barricade made me SIT STILL AND READ. IT WAS HORRIBLE," Shiftlock complains, folding her arms and looking for pity from the big blue truck. Barricade snorts. "No one else taught you anything, protoform. You're lucky I didn't just toss you back out t' deal with all your would-be assassins and boyfriends." He walks over to a table and sets the datapad down. "Kid's in real trouble. Ratbat's put a hit out on her, even commissioned Soundwave for the job but he ain't bitin'. Looks like he wasn't the only one Ratbat called, though." "Hnh." Breakdown narrows his gaze again as he surveys Shiftlock. He doesn't seem to be possessed of an overabundance of pity, although he does shade a little amused, and not unfriendly, you know, for him. He says, dredged from maybe months ago, "Think I owe her a drink." He steps forward away from the nearest leaning surface to clank forward toward the other two. He glances between them. "Never was a big reader. I ain't the smart one." Because. There's only one smart one. "Better watch your back, then," he says. "How many she lookin' at?" he asks Barricade, frown seeping back into his expression again. "Drift tried to kill me. So much for his promises of undying love," Shiftlock grumps, flopping onto a chair near the table, folding her arms. "Not sure, but there's at least -that- joker," Barricade agrees. "Ratbat wants her dead 'cause she knows too much about his operation. Turns out she was bein' used in combiner experiments with a Shifter." "I thought she /was/ a shifter," Breakdown says. His grump is not so far removed from Shiftlock's, at least in the grooves of his scowl, although it might be more reflective of a different /kind/ of baffle. "Saw her turn into that twerp Blurr." Shifting his weight again between his heavy feet, he glances back at Shiftlock. "I heard tell love hurts but that seems a little extreme," he says. His tone is mostly dry. "Yeah, well, see, that was Mercury," Shiftlock explains to Breakdown. He may want to get a chair for this, because all that pent up speed is about to come out as an infodump that can do zero to sixty in two point five. "Okay see, I got used to hold a shifter inside me, she was like, fused into me because she's a Mutacon. But I'm not /her/. You met Mercury, and apparently that e-zero stuff? it kept her trapped in me. Once I ran out she was finally able to free herself." She continues to explain her situation: selected right out of nurturing to be called 'defective' and destroyed, then picked up by 'caring' friends of Ratbat, who lured her into becoming part of the experiment. "Pretty low, huh?" Barricade asks. "But perfect for dirty work. Since they took her before she could be assessed or assigned a function, she ain't in the records. Officially she doesn't exist, which means Ratbat could do whatever he wanted to her without any legal repercussions." "Weird," is how Breakdown summarizes the whole thing, probably not unpredictably. He continues to wear the mask of a frown, deep grooved across his red plating, crinkling over the narrowed glow of his optics. "As if Ratbat faces legal repercussions for anything he does. Law's a joke without a fragging punchline for bots like him. It's low bearing scum like us that get hit in the face." He is readily inclusionary with the concept of scum, not quite literally opening his arms, but friendly and accepting in this context as in few others. "That's why I'm here an' not in Iacon," Barricade says with a scowl that could peel paint. EVERYBODY HAVE GRUMP TONIGHT. "Anyways, that's why I decided t' do something about this. She ain't any better off than when she got snatched, so I've been puttin' her through basic schooling." "... boring as slag, but, hey, I guess I need to learn history and junk," Shiftlock agrees dismissively. Breakdown chuckles. It is a sound that grinds in the depths of his throat, as if it reverberates within the broad bulk of his chest. He says, "It's a good idea to know stuff." He glances up at Barricade. "Boring as slag, huh?" he says. "You could always try blowin' things up to make the lessons stick." Breakdown is not a good authority on education. "Hmmm... I dunno, I'm not much for blowing stuff up - but I LOVE racing. Especially underground, in the dark, with my lights off!" Shiftlock exclaims with enthusiasm. "She's got a real weird frame. S'why I'm gonna take her to a guild master and have her evaluated. We have at least -one- sympathetic functionist for situations like this." Barricade grins again at the thought of that. "With your /lights/ off?" Breakdown looks momentarily taken aback. (Knock Out would never do this with his lights off. The risk to his paint would be too dire.) "How often you wind up with the medics?" He chuffs a little noise, shaking his head with an almost avuncular shade of disapproval, although don't tell him; he'd feel old. "--If she likes racin' but not blowin' stuff up, that seems like she's slotted herself pretty well to me, but I guess just at the track." "Oh I don't need to worry about lights, I mean, i got away from Blurr like that when he tried to kill me," Shiftlock dismisses with ease. "See, my wheels aren't regular wheels, they're like, lots of little magnetic rollers, so I can drive sideways from a standstill, or I can drive up the walls. I dunno, I got a feel for the tunnels down deep beneath the surface. It's like it's home." "Like I said, weird frame," Barricade grunts as he picks up a can of engex. "Weird," echoes Breakdown. His frown lingers in his expression but then, it often does. His eyes stutter in a blink and then he says, "Blurr also tried to kill you? I heard something had gone really weird with that guy." "His mind's fried," Shiftlock says. "It's like he's been reprogrammed or something. He remembered me for a moment, then started spouting off this weird chant about making sacrifices and suddenly he was all 'kill the terrorists'. Apparently buying good tires for Rumble is a terrorist act now." "Ugh," Breakdown says, a little as though he's stepped in something unsightly, as opposed to hearing about creepy brainwashing. He smears his fingers briefly across his faceplate, metal points tinking across its surface. "Hot Rod said something but I didn't know if he wasn't just spouting off all stupid because his hero turned out to be a jerk," he says. "/Of course/ his brain's fried." He scuffs a little at the floor with one foot. "Scrap." "This world's turning corrupt from the inside out. I dunno about you two but I'm ready to do something about it," Barricade growls around his drink, setting it down on the table with a heavy *thunk*. "Yeah," Breakdown says. Pointed fingers closing in a loose fist, he sets it against the palm of his opposite hand as he says, "Particularly if it comes down to breakin' something." (He just likes being eponymous.) "Well... maybe a little breaking things and blowing them up would be fun," Shiftlock giggles. "I mean, it's fun fighting with Rumble and stuff." "That's the spirit kiddo. We'll make a Con outta you yet," Barricade praises. "Heh," Breakdown says by way of agreement. It's a sound between word and laugh, but generally approving.